


Skin Deep

by draculard



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Dark Magic, Extreme Underage, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 12:36:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20621144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Beautiful women can be monstrous, too.





	Skin Deep

Beautiful women can be monstrous, too.

He learns this at nine years old, when rain is pounding at the castle walls. The servants are all asleep; only Adam remains awake, sitting by the fire in the entrance hall. He can never sleep on nights like these, not since Mother died.

He’s staring into the flames, eyes heavy and itching, when a knock comes at the door. The sound of it is nearly swallowed by the rain. He thinks at first that it might be a burst of thunder  — but then real thunder comes, so loud it shakes the stone beneath his feet, and he knows the puny sound he heard earlier must have been manmade. 

Reluctantly, he removes himself from the warmth of the fire. It takes him what seems like an eternity to cross the hall, to reach the door. It’s so heavy he can barely open it, even when he swings all his bodyweight backward with the iron ring in his hands.

And then he sees the crone on his doorstep, old and dripping wet and ugly, and his heart seems to stop.

“May I come in?” she says.

Her voice is phlegmy. It cracks and bubbles as she speaks; she gives no indication that she understands Adam’s status as a prince, no indication that she knows she’s on the doorstep of the finest castle in France. 

He shakes his head, struck mute by the sight of her. He’s never seen anybody so old; he thinks he might be looking at a monster.

_ Close the door,  _ he tells himself, but he can’t move a muscle. His feet are frozen to the stone floor; the iron ring feels like it has melted, consuming his fingers, trapping him where he stands.

“May I come in?” the old woman says again.

Adam’s voice, when he speaks, is weak and high and nervous. “No.”

He thinks, for a moment, that maybe that’s all it takes to get rid of her. She stares back at him, her eyes dark and wet and set deep into her face, reminding him of nothing more than two fat leeches in a dirty pond. 

“Please,” Adam says, voice wavering. He feels his chin trembling; he realizes he’s on the verge of tears, and he’s so irrationally frightened of her that he isn’t even ashamed. “Please leave.”

The woman is silent; her gaze is cold and hard. When she reaches into the tattered folds of her dress, Adam flinches  — but her hand appears again holding only a rose. 

“Allow me to enter here,” she says, “and I will give you this rose.”

He says nothing. He doesn’t think he could say anything if he tried.

He shakes his head.

What happens next will forever be nothing but a bright blur in his memory  — a flash like lightning which rent the sky, a clap like thunder which shook him harder than any natural phenomenon ever had. When it’s all over, the beggarwoman is gone and in her place is someone tall and young and beautiful, in a dress finer than anything Prince Adam has ever owned.

And she looks down at him and her eyes are still the same: two blood-fat leeches in a dirty pond. 

When she steps over the threshold uninvited, Adam’s legs give out, sending him crashing to the floor. The stone cracks against his knees, breaking the skin, sending searing pain up his thighs  — but he cannot look away from the woman who’s walking toward him, each step measured and slow.

She stops so close to him that all he can see is the fabric of her dress. She puts one long, thin finger beneath his chin and tilts his head up, forcing him to meet her eyes.

She scrutinizes him. “You’ve never been hurt before,” she says. “Have you?”

Adam cannot answer. His jaw is sealed shut, his bottom row of teeth glued to the top. He feels tears leaking from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks hot and fast, unstoppable. 

The enchantress leans down close to him, her lips grazing his smooth, pale cheek. He closes his eyes and he can’t tell if she’s kissing him or licking away his tears.

“I’ll change that,” she whispers.

When she puts her hand between his legs and cups him between his trousers, touching him where no one else has ever touched him, Adam allows it. 

There’s nothing he can do to fight back.


End file.
